


Welcome to Camelot Burger

by RoughDraftHero



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Fast Food, Friendship, Hooking up, M/M, Modern AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-25
Updated: 2013-04-25
Packaged: 2017-12-09 11:57:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/773933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoughDraftHero/pseuds/RoughDraftHero
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From KMM prompt:<br/>They're co-workers in a fast food joint who like to get it on when their turn it's over. It's not like they have much time for a relationship anyway, so no harm done.<br/>And if it happens that they also eventually end up sleeping at each other's homes or that they generally look after each other it's all part of the deal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Welcome to Camelot Burger

**Author's Note:**

> Link to prompt: http://kinkme-merlin.livejournal.com/35114.html?thread=37474090#t37474090
> 
> I tried to make it sound -subtley- british, but probably embarrassed myself.

"It's an art." 

Sighing, Merlin adjusts the small mic away from his face. "It's not an art." 

"It's the difference between--" Arthur holds up a chip, and then crushes it between his pointer finger and thumb. "--crunchy, and smooshy, yeah?"

Merlin leans out the order pick-up window and checks down the line, but there's no one there. Dropping his head, he takes another second, as if he's not even going to answer Arthur, but then he glances over his shoulder. "It's dropping a rather broad interpretation of a potato into a hell pit of oil, turning a preset timer, and then waiting. It is not an art." 

"Oh, yeah?" Arthur replies, crossing his arms and resting against the counter. 

"My job, on the other hand..." Merlin says breezily

"Your job. You mean the job where you stand there taking orders? That job?"

"It requires people skills. A foreign concept, I know." 

He hears Arthur chuckle. And then he feels something hit his neck. He touches the spot, and then looks down at the ground to see a chip lying there. "Ten minutes till closing, Merlin," Arthur says in a sing-song voice. 

Merlin turns back around without acknowledging him. 

"Nine minutes now." 

He feels a another chip hit his neck. He opens the cash register and starts flipping through the bills, counting under his breath. Hearing the frier shut off, and the grills, his fingers get a little shaky, so he makes sure to keep them out of Arthur's view. "It's the final countdown," Arthur sings behind him, the sound of a wet mop flopping onto the ground. 

Merlin licks his lips, dropping the money back in the till. "Your dad's gonna get this tonight?" 

"Yeah," Arthur says, sounding half-distracted as he tries to angle the mop in between the two grills. "But he's out at the location in Albion, so--" At the pause, Merlin glances over, and sees Arthur grinning wolfishly at him. "--We have a couple of hours." 

"Hours, huh?" Merlin replies, looking back down. He locks the register, and settles the mic back on its stand. With that done, he tries to slide past Arthur,  but then suddenly Arthur invades his space, forcing him to lean back against the counter. "There are cameras, you know," Merlin mutters, cocking an eyebrow. 

Arthur snorts, and backs away, leaving Merlin enough room to slip away, but their eyes never drop from each other. Arthur's running his thumb obscenely over the top of the mop handle, and finally Merlin is the first to break, his gaze moving away as he huffs, his cheeks heating. "You prat." 

"Happy cleaning," Arthur says jauntily, turning back to finish the kitchen area. Scowling, Merlin strides around the counter and heads for the bathrooms, muttering under his breath. 

—

"Oh, for christ sake--" 

Merlin slams the bathroom stall shut, only to have it bounce back and hit his elbow. Wincing, he backs away and turns to the sink, checking in the mirror to see if there's a cut. He bows his head, inspecting the reddened skin, when he feels a pair of arms wrap around his middle, a chest press against his back. "Want me to kiss the booboo?" Arthur whispers into Merlin's ear.  

With a sharp exhale, Merlin gives him the stink-eye in the mirror, and then nods back towards the stall. "Some moron, some sick bastard--" 

"I don't really need to know," Arthur cuts over him. Merlin meets his warm, blue eyes in the mirror again, and then Arthur smiles, tilting his head to press a kiss against Merlin's temple. "But," he sighs, "I suppose if someone happened to put out, I might feel obligated to reciprocate by taking care of what ever's past that door." 

A breathy laugh escapes Merlin's lips, and he drops his head. "Is that the deal, then?" 

Lips drag against Merlin's neck, and he shudders. "Does that make you feel dirty?" Arthur murmurs, his hot breath tickling at Merlin's sensitive skin, and then he moves his arms up, circling them tightly around Merlin's chest, and squeezing his close. "Exchanging your body for something?" 

In Camelot Burgers, in the bathrooms, in their neon yellow uniforms, Merlin can only snort at Arthur's words. He wipes his face, and then shuffles around in Arthur's grip until they're practically nose to nose. "I always know what I'm supposedly putting on the table before any agreement of exchange," he says, leaning back against the sink. 

"Hmm," Arthur replies, "That's a good point." He tilts his head, as if thinking, and then he grins. "I think cleaning up mystery stall over there is probably worth a yank?" 

Merlin's lips curve, and Arthur's eyebrows rise. "Oh, I see," he says, nodding. "I up that to a blow job." 

"Deal," Merlin replies, his hand already slipping down to Arthur's fly. He leans in, running his tongue just under Arthur's ear, and then he nibbles at the lobe. "Just so you know," he whispers, "You seriously undershot." 

"Ugh," Arthur complains, but then he's biting his lip, and Merlin smirks at him. Sinking down, his knees hitting the gross tile floor of the bathroom (he can't bring himself to care, it's just the disgusting Camelot Burger's polyester uniform slacks he's wearing) Merlin tugs the zipper of Arthur's fly down, and slips a hand between the slit in Arthur's boxers.  

It only takes a few tongue for Arthur to warm up, and then Merlin's sucking on a hard cock, Arthur breathing raggedly overhead. Merlin looks up to see Arthur collapse a little, gripping on to the sink as Merlin continues with jacking, and licking, and occasionally stopping just to teat that impatient whine out of Arthur's arrogant mouth. But then Merlin would breath a hot breath against the tip, right before taking it fully into his mouth again. 

"I'm," Arthur swallows, "Mer--ah, yeah, it's now..." 

Grinning, Merlin pulls away, jerking Arthur's cock at a rough pace. He looks up, catching Arthur's eyes, and then squeezes tight. Arthur's eyes widen, his mouth wide before he grinds out, "Merlin."

Merlin ignores him, but doesn't break eye contact. Instead, with his free hand, he reaches up to the top button of his shirt, undoing it, and then he goes to the next one down, and the next, until his uniform falls open. He runs his hand down his chest. "You're not coming on my face." 

Arthur splutters, his cheeks blushing red. 

"I know you were going to," Merlin continues, "But I just don't feel like getting jizz in my eyes today."

"Ok, ok," Arthur breathes, a line of sweat dripping down his forehead. "I get it, on your chest." 

With that, Merlin smirks, and leans back, giving Arthur a full canvas of pale skin. It only takes a few more seconds for Arthur to jack himself to completion, coming with a jerk on Merlin's chest. Arthur sighs, slumping forward to grab paper towels from the stack, wetting them as he growled, "You coulda said something earlier." 

He tossed the wad of towels to Merlin, who merely shrugged. He clambered to his feet, wiping at his chest. "I suppose, but what's the fun in that?" 

"Har, har, har." Arthur pushes his hair back, his face still flushed. "You know," he says, the idleness in his tone just a bit overdone, "If you really don't want me to do it on your face, I could always--" 

Merlin considers him with a frown. It's the first time Arthur's hinted at cock-in-ass. Tossing the towels into the bin, he turns back to Arthur, and crosses his arms. "You any good at it?" 

The grin that slowly curls on Arthur's face as Merlin's breath hitch. "Not bad," Arthur says, "From what I've heard." 

"Could be they just didn't want to hurt your delicate ego." 

"Well, Merlin," Arthur replies, slinging a friendly arm over Merlin's shoulders, "If that's the case, I certainly trust that you will be the asshole who sets the record straight." 

—

Gwen's at the kitchen table when Merlin trudges in. She looks up from her cellphone, and then eyes the clock on the wall. "Tell me," she says innocently, "How much overtime do you get paid for that kind of work?" 

"That," Merlin sighs wearily, "is the second time someone's inferred that I'm a prostitute." 

He flings his backpack onto the counter, and then drops down on the chair opposite from Gwen, noticing the mail fanned out over the surface. "Anything for me?"

"Anything being an acceptance letter for a certain internship, correct?" 

Merlin looks up at Gwen, but she just gives him an understanding smile, and shakes her head. "Don't panic, it's only been a few days since they said they'd start sending out notices." 

"Yeah, yeah," Merlin breathes, collapsing, his forehead hitting the table with a thud. 

— 

"--and then Percival says Goldeneye is the best multiplayer shooter--ever--which, is ridiculous," Arthur laughs, gesturing his indignation, "I mean, yes, it was revolutionary, but..." 

When Merlin finally notices Arthur had trailed off into silence, he looks up. Arthur's watching him with a hesitant expression, and then he sighs, ruffling the back of his blonde hair. "Do you have a favorite game?" 

"Game, uh," Merlin licks his lips, leaning back against the pick-up window. "Harvest Moon?" 

Arthur stares at him. "What?"

"Animal Crossing?" 

"Please stop." 

Merlin chuckles, and then hears the beep telling him a car has moved up to the intercom. Turning from Arthur, he pulls up the new order interface, and says, "Hark! Welcome to Camelot Burger, how may I take your order?"

He hears the inevitable snort from Arthur, and the awkward pause from the customer, followed by, "Wow, they always make you say that?" 

"Yes," Merlin replies cheerily. 

Thankfully the customer doesn't drag it out as long as some have, and Merlin gets him down the drive-thru and back out onto the road within minutes. Shutting the window, he shakes his head. 

"Hark! Sir Merlin, have you considered my demand?"

Merlin scowls at Arthur over his shoulder. "I refuse."

"Oh my," Arthur intones, "have negotiations broken down between our kingdoms?" With a grin, he sidles up to Merlin, until they're inches apart, but Arthur pretends to be interested in the cash register, caging Merlin in as he reaches over to obnoxiously press at buttons. Keeping his voice low, he says, "Perhaps I'll need to conquer by force." 

A shiver runs down Merlin's spine. He gathers himself and replies, "Maybe I will." 

"Ah, yeah?" Arthur shoots back, cheeky grin plastered on his face.  

There's a thud, and then a loud, drawn out, "GET A ROOOOOOOM!" and they both jump, scampering away from each other. 

Gwaine's standing there, hand on a "fresh" box of frozen chips, and of course he's grinning like a dick. "F. Y. I.," he says, "Other people work here besides you losers." He then nods back towards the entrance of the shop. "Also, daddy Pendragon is coming in from the parking lot." 

"Oh, good," Arthur breathes, glancing around as if he's looking for something to occupy his hands. But then they hear the door open, and all turn to watch Uther Pendragon stride in. He stops at the other side of the counter, resting his palms down, considering them with an unreadable expression. 

Then he says, "Some changes." 

Gwaine, Arthur, and Merlin all blink. "...Changes?" Arthur says, finally. 

"Now that our thirtieth location has opened, it's time to implement a strategy that really makes us worthy competitors to international brands, which means--" Uther draws in a breath, his eyebrows rising, "Twenty-four hours." 

That takes a moment to sink in. "No closing time," Merlin says after a second. For some reason, his eyes flick to Arthur, and for some reason, Arthur is looking at him. He wonders if Arthur's put-out expression mirrors his own. 

"Yes, correct," Uther pushes on, completely oblivious. "I've already set up a round of interviews for the night staff. Because this is our flagship location, we will test out the situation before giving the go ahead to the other sites, which leads me to--" He shoots a meaningful look at Arthur, "the shift in management. As you know, I moved Gaius to the new location so he could get things running smoothly, which has left a vacuum of leadership." 

"Ah, dad," Arthur says slowly, looking like a deer caught in the headlights. 

Uther just smiles his terrifying smile. 

And with that, Arthur is manager. 

— 

"What we lose in the sordid, grimy atmosphere of the bathroom, we gain in the complete privacy, comfortable furnishings, and creepy power imbalance of the manager's office." 

Arthur has Merlin on his lap, the junky swivel chair squeaking in complaint below them. "I see that," Merlin says, glancing around at the threadbare, puke green couch pushed up against the wall, the stack of blank 'employee of the month' certificates in the corner, and the mysterious stains in the rug. Finally, he meets eyes with Arthur, who grins at him.

A hand slides up Merlin's thigh. "So," Arthur says, "just keep in mind, a little bit of sugar my way could take you far in this establishment, sweetcheeks." 

"You pig," Merlin says lightly, bowing his head to place a light kiss on Arthur's lips. He feels an arm snake around his middle, and he obliges with the gentle tug directing him to turn so that his back is pressed up to Arthur's chest, his ass firmly planted on Arthur's crotch. 

"Still refuse?"

"Mmm..." Merlin closes his eyes, dropping his head back against Arthur's shoulder with a tired sigh. He can feel Arthur getting hard, the almost pushy, desperate thickness grinding against Merlin's ass. He likes it. And to show he likes it, he grinds back. 

"Oh, fuck you," Arthur growls, his tone affectionate. "You make me mess these hoity-toity manager trousers, and I'm going to wallop your ass." 

Merlin breathes a laugh, but doesn't quit, keeping up with the slow roll of his hips, adding more and more pressure with each sway. He feels Arthur start to nibble mindlessly at Merlin's neck, uttering pleased little whines. 

And then Merlin's mobile erupts in a fit of rings and vibrations. He jumps to his feet, barely registering the string of curses behind him as he fishes in his pocket for the phone, and brings it to his ear. "Hello?" 

"Merlin, it's here!" 

His eyes widen, and he holds the mobile with both hands. "Open it, Gwen." 

He hears the rustling of paper, and then a quick intake of breath. "You've got it, Merlin, the full summer internship." 

Exhaling out the nervousness that had built up ever since his interview, Merlin drops his head with a smile. "Cheers, Gwen, I'll be home in a few hours." 

They say their goodbyes, Merlin clicking the end call button, and then he turns back to Arthur, who's eyebrows are raised with curiosity. Merlin is about to tell him about the internship, the summer in Germany. But then it hits him--getting the internship means moving for the summer, means either losing his job at Camelot Burger, or at least putting it on hold. 

Which means... putting Arthur on hold. And was Arthur something that could hold?

"Ah," he says stupidly. 

"What was that about?" Arthur prompts. 

"I, uh..." Merlin pressed the crease between his eyes. "Got a thing. Well, was accepted for a thing." 

Arthur eyes him skeptically. "A thing?" And then when it becomes obvious that Merlin isn't going to answer him, he exhales, leaning back in his chair, and says, "Well, for your roommate to call you, it must be a big thing. We should celebrate."

Merlin is frozen. "Huh?"

Arthur is looking more and more amused with Merlin's decreasing ability to verbalize. "Cel-e-brate? My promotion, and your top secret thing?"  

Merlin wraps an around his middle. "Like outside of Camelot Burger?"

"Yeah, well," Arthur replies, turning his chair slightly with his foot. "Unfortunately, Camelot Burger is a family-friendly wholesome establishment which does not serve alcohol." He looks up at Merlin, cocky grin on his face. "And I want to get blitzed." 

"Yeah, sure," Merlin says, forcing a more easy-going tone than what he was feeling. 

Arthur nods, clearly pleased, and then reaches across his desk for the neon orange Camelot Burger hat. "Right, back to work." 

— 

Arthur is not blitzed, and neither is Merlin. 

They are drunk-ish, weaving together down the street more out of giddiness than intoxication. 

It was somewhere around the third shot that Arthur started sticking his tongue in Merlin's ear, wrapping a gentle hand around Merlin's throat. "I want to do you," he kept giggling, "Are you a virgin? Is that why you always say no?"  
"Don't be like that," Merlin had slurred, knocking Arthur away from him, who stumbled slightly. It was a good thing they were in a crowded pub, and no one was paying attention to their antics.  

Arthur had paused, swaying, resting a hand on the bar to steady himself. He was frowning, as if trying to think hard about something, and then he looked up at Merlin. "I didn't mean it like that," he said, wiping at his mouth, "no, I mean, I didn't mean to pressure you--I just meant, you don't have to be, uh, scared?" 

Merlin considered him with blurry eyes. 

"No, I--" Arthur continued, scratching at his eyebrow, "Well, why don't you do me first? And then we can--"

"I do want it," Merlin said quietly. 

Arthur had blinked at him. "Sorry?"

And that's how they find themselves traipsing in the direction Arthur claims he lives, but it's already been six blocks, and Merlin just doesn't want to sober up before they get into things. 

"I'm getting a bit clear-headed," he whines. 

"Oh dear," Arthur replies, wrapping an arm around his waist to push him along a little faster. 

Merlin snorts at this, and mimics the action so that their bound together in an awkward race down the pavement. He leans over to press a kiss against Arthur's neck. "Thanks for, um, not freaking out."

Arthur shoots his a curious side-eye. "Why would I freak out?"

"Well, you know, not everyone wants to deal with taking someone's virginity and all that." 

"Those people are assholes." 

"Yeah," Merlin breathes, and pulls Arthur a little closer. 

—  
At Arthur's flat, he pulls out a varnished cigar case from under his bed, unlatches it, and lifts up a joint, cocking an eyebrow and Merlin, who sits down next to him.  

"Yeah," Merlin says. 

Nodding, Arthur reaches for the lighter on his nightstand. "I was wondering if you hadn't done anything--" he turns to grin at Merlin, "you know, ass-wise, yet." He lights the joint, draws in a puff, and then hands it to Merlin. 

"It's gonna suck the first time, isn't it?" Merlin replies, eyebrows pinching as he takes a hit. 

He hears a chuckle. "Maybe," Arthur says slowly, "Not if we take our time." 

They sit in companionable silence through the rest of the joint, Merlin taking in the sight of Arthur's studio flat. There's dishes crowded over on the counter in the kitchen nook, clothes draped over every available surface. He watched Arthur get up to turn the tv on with the volume set low, and turn the lights off.

When he sits back down next to Merlin, they're cast in the flickering glow of the television. The next thing he feels is Arthur gently pushing him down on the bed, and somehow the comforter is an endless drop of soft and warmth, but Arthur on top of him is heavy and grounding. 

"I do actually like Animal Crossing." 

He hears a snort, Arthur dropping his face against Merlin's chest. He giggles at that, but then he feels a pair of fingers press against his lip. Hovering over him, Arthur considers him with bright blue eyes, a small smile playing on his face. "I'm starting to understand that my dream of deftly seducing a young, nubile virgin, and drawing him through the throes of passion and inescapable pleasure might be a tad out of reach." 

"I--" Merlin replies thoughtfully, "--want the romance to be somewhere between sticking it in me willynilly, and soft-scented candles"

Arthur closes his eyes in mock frustration. "Ah, such selfish demands."

"What can I say? Losing my virginity is a momentous occasion, it will change me to the core, fundamentally bringing me from boyhood to being a true man,"  Merlin grins up at him. 

"Indeed," Arthur replies, his tone serious. "But after this event that will no doubt redefine the course of history, can we try all kinds of things?" 

"Like what kinds of things?" 

"Like you riding me, or doing it standing, or maybe outside. Wouldn't mind good ol' doggy style once in awhile, and of course there's toys..." 

Merlin's eyebrows rise. "Basically you just want to stick things in my ass from different positions." 

"Yes," Arthur replies. 

"You pervert." 

"Yep." 

Arthur cages Merlin in, resting up on his forearms. Strands of blond hair fall around his warm eyes. Bowing his head, he kisses Merlin gently on the lips. "If you're tired," he says, obviously trying to hide his reluctance, "we don't have to do this tonight." 

"I really want to do it, Arthur."

"Thank god." 

Merlin laughs, feeling Arthur shift over him, reaching for the nightstand again. When his hand returns, it's clutching a bottle of lube. "Alright," Arthur says, the excitement in his voice ramping up, "time to ditch the clothes." 

Stretching out of his shirt, Merlin keeps a close eye on the lines of Arthur's abs as he too undresses, and, man, is that guy cut. He licks his lips in anticipation, shimmying quickly out of his trousers. And then he's sitting in his boxers, legs crossed and hands in his lap, as he just stares dumbly at Arthur.

"You're quite hot," he says, looking up at Arthur's eyes. 

"Hopefully that works for you?" Arthur replies. 

Merlin shrugs. "It's alright."  
   
Instead of answering, Arthur shoves him down to his side, and he leans up on his elbow with surprise, and see Arthur kneeling down near his ass, resting a hand on Merlin's hip. "Ever been fingered?" Arthur asks him. 

"Sure," Merlin replies. 

Arthur stares at him. "I don't mean yourself." 

"Oh." 

Arthur snorts, shaking his head. "Well, you're already shameless, so I doubt this will even be an iota embarrassing for you." 

"Says someone who likes to come on my face." 

His cheeky response earns him a light slap on his ass, and he bites his lip, suddenly understanding what Arthur means by embarrassing when he catches Arthur hooking a finger under the band of his boxers, and slips it down to his thighs. "Ah," he breaths. 

"Mm?" Arthur's is flipping the cap to the lube open, and pouring some on his palm. He drops the bottle, and slides a gentle hand back down on Merlin's hip. Merlin exhales, and then tenses when he feels fingers nudge between his cheeks, circling around his hole. 

It's hard to be tense though, when he's high and still a little drunk, and he finds himself getting hot all over, his body relaxing. "S' not bad," he mumbles. 

"That's what I like to hear," Arthur replies, voice a little husky. He slips in the first finger. 

It's foreign and weird for a flash second, and then it's arousing, having Arthur hovering over him, pushing into him with a second finger. Merlin reaches down, palming his cock and jacking slowly. At the third finger, Merlin's breath hitches, and then Arthur does something--curls his fingers, and brushes just the right spot--and Merlin moans.

"Alright, alright," Arthur mutters, as if he's talking to himself. Merlin hears the tearing of a condom wrapper, and he swallows, the faint tingle of nerves making his stomach flop. "Just keep jacking off, Merlin," Arthur says. 

"Ok..." 

Arthur bends over him for a second, grabbing a pillow, and leans back, circling an arm under Merlin to lift his hips up so he can shove the pillow underneath. Merlin's still on his side, his legs bent up, and he shivers when Arthur pushes two fingers in again, scissoring wide. "You're hot inside, Merlin," Arthur murmurs, petting Merlin's side, "nice, and soft." 

Feeling the fingers retract, and something much broader push against him, Merlin curls a little, but keeps jerking his cock, heat throbbing tightly through him. 

Arthur slowly shoves in, and Merlin sucks in a breath at the stretch, the feel of a cock sliding into him. And then Arthur is rocking gently, and Merlin can hear his short, strained breaths. 

When Merlin comes, he gasps, and then he feels Arthur pull out of him. He looks over to see Arthur drag the condom off his still hard cock, tossing it over the bed, and then he hunches over Merlin, fingers digging into Merlin's waist as he jacks off, his eyes locked on Merlin's. He tenses, shuddering, and then drops his head. 

After a moment, he crawls on top of Merlin, and collapses, hugging Merlin close. "Not bad?"

"Not bad." 

"Wanna get some Squire's Sausage Sandwiches in the morning?" 

"Fuck you." 

Arthur laughs tiredly, and cuddles a little closer to Merlin. 

—  

Turns out, Merlin is voracious for the 'all kinds of things' Arthur can think of. 

And after things stop being about baby steps and keeping Merlin so lubed up that he can barely feel Arthur thrusting in and out--they start being about pressing Merlin chest down on the desk in the manager's office, tugging his trousers to his feet, and shoving into him with little more than a line of spit easing the way. 

Afterwards, they're both flopped on the couch, their shirts undone as they share sips from a 40. “I think my dad's grooming me for something,” Arthur says idly.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, like a corporate thing at headquarters. In London.” 

Merlin nods, dropping his head back as he takes a chug. Arthur had said it so casually, so easily—just like how easily he had come on to Merlin those few months ago when Merlin first started working at Camelot Burger. Maybe it would be just as easy for Arthur to end the whole thing....

Wiping his mouth, Merlin says, “London would be fun.” 

“London would be fun,” Arthur replies, a little quietly. After a moment, he sniffs, and turns his head to Merlin with a grin. “So, what about you?” 

Merlin feels a little drop in his stomach, so he sticks with an innocent “What about me?” 

“Planning on sticking it out here?” 

“Mm,” Merlin replies thoughtfully. “No, I don't.” 

“Oh.” 

Merlin glances over to Arthur with raised eyebrows. “What 'oh'?” 

Inhaling, Arthur just shrugs, but there's a small smile on his face. “So, you're not married to living here.” 

“No,” Merlin replies, thinking now would be the time to mention Germany, “I--” 

Arthur's mobile beeps. With raised eyebrows, he digs it out of his pocket, and looks at the screen. “Oh, right,” he says flatly. 

Eyes dropping, Merlin nods to himself and stands up. So, maybe now is not the time. “I'm going to head to shift,” he says, but Arthur is preoccupied with tapping something out on the phone, and just grunts in response. 

Merlin walks out of there with his shirt ruffled, and Gwaine catches his eye with a grin. Merlin sticks his nose up, and walks stiffly past Gwaine, trying not to betray any pleasant soreness his body happened to be feeling at that moment as he pulled the mic off the hook, and took up his spot at the pick-up window.   

Alright, then," Arthur says cheerily when he steps out of the office a few minutes, clapping his hands. "I'm off to some management seminar my father's cooked up. I'm sure you two can hold down the fort in my absence." 

And then--he leans in for a kiss from Merlin, who jerks back as if burned. They stare at each other for an awkward second, and then Merlin chokes out, "Cameras..." 

"Ah, right," Arthur says lightly, grin returning to his face, reaching up to ruffle his hair as he looks to the side for a moment. 

"Uh--" 

"Bye," Arthur practically shouts, "No burning down the place!" 

Merlin reaches out to him, but he's already fled, the door swinging shut behind him. Licking his lips, Merlin glances over to Gwaine, who's smirking at him. “You cold-hearted bastard.” 

Merlin scratches his ear, and then turns to stare out the pick-up window. “It was a slip on his part, yeah? He would have reacted the same exact way if I had tried to kiss him.” 

“Sure,” Gwaine replies, and Merlin can just hear the eye-rolling in his tone. 

But Merlin knows he's right. Because it was Arthur himself who said something about it being a bit of fun, something to relieve the stress of a hard day's work. And Merlin was right on board with that, because frankly he had uni, and internship interviews, and god—now he's going to Germany, so really, who would mistake what he and Arthur are doing as...

He looks at Gwaine. “This has an expiration period.” 

Gwaine shoots him an almost—pitying—look, and Merlin frowns, turning back the window to ignore him, rather than continue down a road he didn't want to go on. 

– 

They're in a back alley, hiding under an awning as a light drizzle wets the ground. Arthur's got his arms on either side of Merlin, caging him against the wall, and he's so focused on the back of Merlin's neck, sucking on it, licking it, kissing it gently. Merlin's got his forehead pressed against the bricks, and he's the one rolling his hips to meet Arthur's cock over and over. 

Arthur drops one hand to slip it under Merlin's shirt, fingers grazing up his belly. They're not saying anything this time, enveloped by the sound of rain and cars from the nearby road. 

Panting, Merlin gasps when Arthur's teeth bite against his skin, the tight pinch shooting pain down his spine. “Christ,” he says, breathless, turning his head to look at Arthur from the corner of his eye. “That hurt.” 

“Sorry,” Arthur murmurs in that voice that says he's not sorry at all. Merlin feels him brush a thumb over the throbbing spot. 

Rolling his eyes, Merlin glanced to his hand splayed on the wall, checking his watch. “Didn't you say we were meeting those people at ten?” 

“'Those people'?” Arthur laughs, now back to licking at Merlin's neck, specifically that spot. He's also grabbed Merlin's waist, taking over the responsibility of thrusting. “You mean my friends?” 

“Right,” Merlin chokes out, losing most of his composure from the abrupt change of slow and easy—to rough pounding, Arthur shoving in and out of him. His fingers curl into his palms, and he drops his head again, closing his eyes and letting the feeling of Arthur use him take over. 

Arthur tenses, grunting, and then relaxes. He slides a hand up Merlin's back before gently pulling out and sidling off to the side to dump the condom. Merlin's still facing the wall, biting his lip. Truthfully, he had avoided using the words 'meeting your friends,” because somehow that phrase held a connotation that he wasn't sure if Arthur realized, or—Merlin didn't want Arthur to think Merlin thought about that, in case it had absolutely no meaning, or— 

“You ok?” Arthur asks from behind him. 

“Yeah,” Merlin breathes, crouching down to pull up his trousers. 

“It left a mark.” 

He turns to look at Arthur. “What?”

Arthur is grinning cockily at him, and reached out a hand to cup the back of Merlin's neck, and Merlin realizes what he means with a scowl. “You ass.” 

Laughing, Arthur leans forward to kiss Merlin's forehead, so Merlin sighs like he's being put upon by having to deal with such a childish prat. “Anyway,” he says, “They're probably waiting for us.”

Arthur's grin dims somewhat, but he's still holding Merlin's neck. “Yeah, alright,” he says, “Let's go.” 

– 

It's a gay club, and Merlin's never been. 

They were already in the right city, had to take a train there, but when Merlin had start muttering about being an hour early, Arthur had dragged him off to that side alley, telling Merlin he had asked for it. 

But now, Merlin's inside the club, and it's a sea of men. And supposedly, not a single one of them is straight—a set of odds Merlin's never really come across before. He's frozen for a moment, just taking in the different body types and ages, and well, everything, and damned if his heart doesn't skip a beat. 

Skipped another beat, when Arthur took his hand, and he glanced over, and it really hit how all the men in that building paled in comparison to Camelot Burger's day shift manager. But at the moment, Arthur's smiling at him a little wanly, and Merlin's not sure what that means. 

“You want to go out there and dance?” Arthur asks. 

“Uh,” Merlin replies dumbly, “Well, are you coming?” 

Arthur's expression is still unreadable. “..do you want me to?” 

Merlin's confused now, and annoyed, and very close to asking, “Do you want me to want you to?” but instead he snappishly says, “We still need to find your friends.” 

Nodding, Arthur gestures for him to follow, and they push their way to the bar. Merlin catches sight of a group of men, and thinks, that's just got to be them. They all share the same swagger that Arthur has, a pack of bros. 

And when Arthur and Merlin approach, they look around one by one, and then lift their drinks up hollering, “Arthur!” 

Merlin hears Arthur chuckle, and then nearly falls over when he drops an arm around Merlin's shoulders. “Hey assholes,” he said, “this is Merlin” 

There's recognition in their eyes, which is shocking enough on its own. 

But then, one of them, swaying on his barstool, narrows his eyes with delight at Merlin, and points with his cup. “You're the virgin.” 

The first reaction Merlin feels is actually Arthur's arm tensing on his shoulder, rather than any inward response, but then it does seep in, and his mouth opens, but he doesn't have anything to say. “Merlin...” he hears Arthur saying cautiously next to him. 

“No,” Merlin replies tightly, “no.” He shoves Arthur's arm on his shoulder, and tries to stride away, but Arthur grabs his wrist in an almost crushing grip, and Merlin spins on him with a glare. 

“Ah, look, sorry—“ the drunk friend says, but Arthur holds up a palm to him, his eyes still locked on Merlin. He tugs Merlin a little closer. 

“I shouldn't have said anything.” Arthur licks his lips, and drops his head. “I wasn't—it wasn't about making fun of you.” 

“I don't care,” Merlin replies tightly, “I don't care what it was about, I just don't like that you told them.” 

Arthur's starting too look more than a little worried. “Merlin—” 

“This is fine,” Merlin says, his heart feeling like it's sinking to his stomach. He doesn't know how things spiraled so downhill so quickly, but he does know that he's pissed. “we probably needed something like this to really end things, before Germany—” 

“End things?” Arthur shouts, making Merlin flinch, “don't just jump to that—wait, Germany? What about Germany?” 

“Guys...” another one of Arthur's friends bravely tries to cut in, “maybe take this outside?”

Arthur ignores him, glaring at Merlin. “What the fuck does Germany mean?” 

Merlin licks his lips, and then draws in a breath. “I'm moving there, in a few weeks.” 

A cold washes over Arthur's expression. “Moving?” he grinds out. He looks down for a second, and then without meeting Merlin's eyes, he mutters, “Fuck you, Merlin.” His shoulder hits Merlin as he shoves away, disappearing into the crowd towards the door. 

“Shit,” the drunk friend says. 

Merlin stares at the spot Arthur had vanished to, and then he sighs. He feels sick. 

“You okay?” the other friend says. Merlin glances up at him, and the friend smiles. “My name's Percival.” 

“Hello,” Merlin replies dully. 

“You don't want to go after him?” 

Merlin shakes his head. He feels like collapsing, but he doesn't really want to touch the floor of the club. Seeming to sense his conundrum, Percival shoves drunk friend away with a meaningful look, and pulls the stool up for Merlin, gesturing for him to come over. 

Merlin plops down, and rests his chin on his hands. He feels Percival pat his back. “Uh, well, here's the thing, Merlin,” Percival coughed, “Arthur did kinda talk about you being a virgin a lot, but it was more for encouragement than anything else.” 

Merlin side-eyes him with a frown. “What does that mean?”

“Arthur's kind of a man-ho,” drunk friend cuts in from the other side of Percival. 

“Yeah,” Percival says, scowling at him, and then turning back to Merlin. “Look, I don't really want to speak for Arthur or anything, but I'll just tell you my impression, so this doesn't get too fucked up. He didn't want you to hear that he was fucking around while he was waiting for you to be ready, so he spent a lot—a lot of time whining to us about not getting laid.” 

“But I guess you finally let him do it,” the drunk friend laughed, and Percival smacks him on the head. 

“Christ...” he mutters, turning back to Merlin. “Anyway, take that as you will.” 

“I think you've got it wrong,” Merlin replies, scratching at the surface bar. “We were just hooking up, he didn't need to be all—monogamous—for that.” 

“Yeah?” Percival says, with a small smile playing on his face. 

Merlin considers him, considers Arthur, considers what they've been doing. And then he gets up, and leaves the club. 

— 

Arthur's not at his flat, and Merlin's lost for a moment, until he's struck with a thought. 

Which is how he ends up at Camelot Burger, opening the door with his employee key. He sees the light under the door to the manager's office, and sighs. 

Arthur is sitting on the puke-green couch, still in his tight club clothes, and he's nursing a 40. His blue, tired eyes move up to Merlin when Merlin steps in, and he smiles faintly. “Why did I talk to them about it, Merlin? Now you're leaving me, and going to Germany.” 

“Well, I.” Merlin replies, his eyebrows rising. “I still would have been going to German, regardless.” 

Arthur's eyelids droop a little. “Were you...what, going to text me right before the plane took off?” He scratches the tip of his nose. “There's no Camelot Burgers in Germany, Merlin, I can't follow you there. Why are you going to live in Germany?”

Completely dumbfounded, all Merlin can think to say is, “Well, it's only three months.” 

Arthur blinks once, and then looks up at Merlin. “What?”

“It's a summer internship.” 

There's some clarity in Arthur's gaze now. “Are you shitting me?” 

This tears a laugh out of Merlin, and he ruffles his hair. “Did I not mention that before?” 

“No, you did not, you ass,” Arthur replies, “here I was, devising a plan to get your passport flagged on some no-fly list.” 

Merlin stares at him. “Hey, you were planning to move, too!” 

Arthur grins, and gestures outwards, “I was planning on taking you with me!” 

It's too much for Merlin, and he bounces forward to the couch, sinking down to straddle Arthur's lap, who's staring up at him with such an open, happy expression. Merlin takes the forty, and throws back his head to pour a long chug down his throat. When their eyes meet again, Arthur is grinning as he reaches up and takes back the beer, setting it down on the small table next to the couch. 

Next, he slides his hands up Merlin's thighs, grazing around until he has a firm hold of Merlin's ass. Merlin rests his hands on Arthur's shoulders, staring down at him. “I thought this was just hooking up.” 

“Well,” Arthur replies, “Sure. In this day and age, who really sticks to a relationship anymore.” Merlin's face drops, but then he catches the glint in Arthur's eye. “However,” Arthur continues, “if we happen to keeping fucking each other, that's only because it's fun, right? And if we start spending more time away from Camelot Burger, and our beds, that's because it's not too bad just hanging out sometimes.”

“Sure,” Merlin replies, smiling. 

Arthur slides a hand to Merlin's front, walking his fingers up Merlin's chest, dragging his shirt up. “And if you happen to come across some hot German stud, you're going to turn right around and take your ass in the opposite direction.” 

“Will I, now?” Merlin says with a laugh. 

“Yes,” Arthur says.

“And you will be doing the same with those London boys?”

Arthur looks very serious this time, holding Merlin. “Yes.” 

What Merlin wants to do just then–he's not sure if Arthur wants to do, considering the fingers pinching Merlin's nipple, but he doesn't really care. He scoots down, his legs stretching out to the other side of the couch, and cuddles up to Arthur's chest, pushing his face against Arthur's neck. There's a surprised pause from Arthur for a moment, and then an arm wraps around Merlin, pulling him in tight. Merlin feels a kiss pressed down on his head. 

“Yeah, this works,” Arthur says lightly. 

“Yeah?” 

“I've been waiting for something like this.” 

Merlin exhales through his nose, his cheeks heating. “Damn.” 

“What?”

“Now I really wish I wasn't going to Germany.” 

—

He does, and then when he comes back, he moves in with Arthur in London, and they have lots of sex, and hamburgers and they live happily ever after.


End file.
